


your loves a fucking drag

by Anonymous



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: ??????? - Freeform, Angst, Bottom Brendon Urie, M/M, Post-Relationship, Seven Minutes In Heaven Game, Spin the Bottle, Top Ryan Ross, but not really, pete and patrick are supportive and concerned parents, the timeline on this one isnt uh super perfect and for that i am sorry, there's also sm peterick in here if you squint but thats just because i Love my Boys, travie and gabe mean well but theyre too fuckin chaotic bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-07-31 20:03:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20120896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: in which brendon places too much faith in his friends and has an eventful reunion with the boy he's been trying to avoid for years.





	your loves a fucking drag

**Author's Note:**

> hifdkjx i wrote this 4 years ago and rediscovered it in a god damn fall out boy spiral notebook so Pls Enjoy

Ryan Ross was an asshole. Brendon had stopped trying to delude himself of anything other than that blatant and all encompassing truth.

It’d been two years since the band had broken up, and Brendon felt like he was doing really well for himself, considering. He’d managed to keep Panic moderately relevant in mainstream media, written and toured an entire new album, and realized that he was a fine piece of ass all while keeping his shitty ex-boyfriend out of his life. But apparently the universe had decided he’d had it too good for too long.

Brendon couldn’t hold it against Travie for dragging him to the party Gabe was throwing tonight, even though he was fairly sure from the beginning that this whole thing was one of their contrived evil plans. It wasn’t their  _ fault _ \- Brendon had only  _ really _ talked to Pete about his break up with Ryan, both because he trusted Pete with shit like that and because he didn’t want to bog down the rest of his friends with the stupid messy fucking details. Maybe that was a mistake on his part, because no one but Pete understood that he’d been  _ purposefully _ avoiding Ryan and the fact that they hadn’t been in the same room for about two years was far from coincidental. 

Even with his suspicions that Gabe and Travie were up to something, Brendon didn’t suspect  _ how meticulously _ these two dumbasses had schemed this time, nor did he predict how  _ adament _ the two of them would be about putting their plan into motion. Travie was at Brendon’s house helping him get ready (see also: forcing Brendon to leave his house), and he’d taken one look at Brendon’s outfit before telling him to change because he didn’t look  _ cute _ enough. 

“ _ What? _ ” Brendon had asked three octaves above his usual register, equal parts confused and  _ fucking delighted. _

“I don’t know man,” Travie deflected terribly, “you seem kind of dressed down. There’s gonna be plenty of hot chicks and dicks tonight, so I just fi-”

“ ** _Chicks and dicks?!_ ** ” Brendon repeated, his voice steeped with giggles and somehow even higher. Travie just scowled at him.

“Bro I don’t know  _ what _ you’re into anymore, I just know you’re  _ way _ into it. Go fuckin’ change.” 

Brendon snorted. “Into  _ what, _ Travie? What constitutes  _ cuter,  _ exactly? Who’s the judge of cute? You? Do we need to have a montage of me trying on every outfit I own while you solemnly shake your head?” 

Travie just rolled his eyes, grabbing Brendon’s shoulders and shoving him back towards his room. “Change, you little shit.” 

Brendon complied and soon enough he had switched from a loose fitting v-neck into a button up, suspenders, and a bow tie. Travie looked pretty skeptical about this new look, but Brendon just sort of shrugged at him “I like it,” he said simply, and Travie was never really one to argue so he shook his head and ushered Brendon into his car.

“So this is a Saporta party, yeah?” Brendon asked one they were on the road.

“Yep. Supposed to be a huge party, not that I’d expect any less from Gabe. Not really sure what the occasion is other than  _ fuck it, why not _ , but I guess that’s a good a reason as any, right?” Brendon furrowed his brow in response. In his personal experience, doing things because  _ fuck it, why not _ was almost always a recipe for disaster. Still, he allowed himself to be driven to this very suspicious party, telling the uneasy feeling in his gut to fuck off.

Brendon walked into Gabe’s place with Travie right behind him. He clapped Brendon on the back, smiling knowingly before disappearing. Brendon squinted in confusion before shaking his head and turning towards the crowd of people mingling around the room.

He scanned the ,ass of dancing bodies for a familiar face. His eyes had probably scanned the room twice before he spotted a boy (girl? no definitely boy) that made him do a double take. Fuck.

Brendon felt like he was in a shitty romantic comedy where the main character spots The Most Beautiful Girl from across the room and immediately falls deeply in love. Only this was the exact opposite. This was all wrong. Brendon could  _ not _ be in here with him, he could  _ not _ deal with this today (or any other day, for that matter!), he had to get out. This was supposed to be over.

Brendon desperately stumbled through the crowd, unapologetically shoving his way to where he remembered the bathroom being. He slammed the door behind him and bent over the sink, willing himself not to vomit. 

He took deep breaths and slashed his face with sink water. There was no need to freak out like this. It’d been two years. They had both grown and moved on. They were almost like fully functioning adults now or something. Brendon could do this. He could last one shitty night at a party with Ryan Ross.

After a few more seconds of self reassurance, Brendon stepped out of the bathroom and back onto the dance floor (or rather, Gabe’s living room with all the furniture pressed against the walls so people had space to dance). Gabe, ever the narcissistic asshole, was playing Cobra songs, so Brendon busied himself bouncing to the beat and doing his best to blend and not seem like the pathetically alone loser that he felt like. 

He looked around for anyone else he knew, dutifully ignoring looking towards the strip of wall Ryan was leaning against. Brendon knew he’d probably have to face Ryan at some point tonight, but that wasn’t going to stop him from putting it off as long as humanly possible. 

He was hoping to see Pete here for some emergency bro-to-bro counseling, but he was shit out of luck. Brendon  _ did  _ manage to see Gabe Saporta’s six foot four ass shuffling his way across the floor to him and -  _ shit. _ Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Travie already talking to Ryan. These fucking  _ bastards. _

“Hey!” Gabe called out over the pounding music, giving Brendon one of those heterosexual handshake-hug things. “What’s up, man?”

“Not shit,” Brendon yelled back. “Writing, mainly.” He shrugged casually, trying to hide the very annoying urge he had to either sneak a glance at Ryan and Travie again or to just straight up run out of the room. 

“Cool cool,” Gabe nodded. “So how’s the love life?” Gabriel Saporta was pretty shitty at a lot of things. Apparently, subtlety was one of those things. 

Not knowing how to react and therefore settling to not react much at all, Brendon shook his head. “Not really on my mind right now.” There was sort of a girl in his life, but it wasn’t anything serious yet. Brendon cursed himself for not making a move sooner, because then he’d have a real reason to tell Gabe to fuck off. Sure, he  _ could’ve _ lied, but Gabe and Travie were thorough mother fuckers. He wouldn’t put it past them to have done entire background checks on him  _ and _ Ryan before trying to pull off whatever the fuck they were going for here. 

Gabe narrowed his eyes at Brendon, mouth curved into a disbelieving smile. “I think I can fix that.” Brendon felt sick again. Were Gabe and Travie really conspiring to get Brendon and Ryan to fuck again? What the  _ fuck _ was his life?

“Dude,” Gabe said, “you want a drink?”

Brendon shook his head, for once in his life determined to stay sober. “No man, I’m good.”

Gabe laughed. “Woah, Brendon, you alright? No alcohol? You sure?” Brendon knew he was teasing, so he just nodded as Gabe laughed again. “Alright dude, see you around!” Brendon mumbled out a “bye,” wondering how his friends could be so fucking dumb sometimes.

Ryan was also alone now, browsing the snacks obliviously as Travie and Gabe regrouped. Brendon wondered if they’d synchronized watches or something. He shook his head and waded further into the mass of bodies on the dance floor, hoping to stay as far out of Ryan’s sight as possible. He ignored the hungry, gleaming eyes of the people around him, deciding against hooking up with anybody tonight. 

Hey stayed in the crowd, dancing the pass the time and actually starting to enjoy himself after a little while. Ryan seemed content standing by the snacks and striking up a conversation with whoever walked by, apparently declining Travie and Gabe’s multiple attempts to get him out onto the dance floor. Four or five songs had gone by and Brendon? Was thriving. But Gabe and Travie had come determined and prepared, and were dead set on moving their master plan forward.

Abruptly, a hand closed down on one of Brendon’s suspenders and yanked, pulling him off of the dance floor with no more explanation than a gruff “Gabe’s doing a thing.” Brendon followed Travie numbly, his feet stumbling ahead as the fight or flight instinct bubbled its way up his throat. Brendon forced himself to swallow them back down, trying to keep calm. He could do this, whatever this was going to be. It was only Ryan. 

Brendon was lead into a bedroom with a circle of people sitting on the floor. They were all really attractive, but Brendon only recognized two of them. There was Gabe smiling innocently up at him, and Ryan, sitting next to Gabe with all the color drained from his face. Brendon felt smug for a moment, thinking that his mere presence could do that much to Ryan, but then he looked down and saw the  _ true _ object of Ryan’s mortification. In the middle of this circle of horny teenagers masquerading as fully grown adults was a single empty bottle. 

Gabe, purposely oblivious to his friends’ panic smiled like he’d won something and gestured to an empty spot in the circle. An empty spot that was  _ directly _ across from Ryan. Fuck.

“Brendon!” Gabe said too loudly. “You’re just in time. Come play!” Begrudgingly, Brendon sat down, doing everything he could to avoid catching Ryan’s eye. He breathed deeply, doing his best to stay calm. He could do this, right? The odds were entirely in his favor. 

In all honesty, Brendon hated spin the bottle. It was entirely up to chance, everyone was always super nervous, and  _ someone _ always ended up crying by the end of it, at least in Brendon’s experience. He figured that if you wanted to kiss someone, there were better ways to go about that than a fucking game of chance. Passive aggression was  _ never  _ the way to get laid. 

Gabe was busy trying to explain the rules and Ryan was busy trying to catch Brendon’s attention. Brendon ignored them both - he was too preoccupied with trying to calculate the exact odds of him having to kiss Ryan tonight. 

The game started with the girl directly to Brendon’s left, which made him panic for a moment - were they going clockwise or  _ counter _ clockwise? Brendon was about to open his mouth and make up a dumb excuse about having to use the bathroom when the guy on the girl’s other side picked up the bottle and took his turn. Oh shit, okay, cool. He was going last, then. That was good because it gave him time to think. Somehow, the bottle never seemed to land on him (or Ryan, for that matter), leaving Brendon to wonder if Gabe was controlling the bottle with his mind or some shit. 

Ryan’s turn came to spin the bottle, and the two of them held their breath as the bottle’s nose turned. Luckily, it skipped right over Brendon and landed on some pretty blonde who kissed unenthusiastically. Brendon unclenched his fists. He could  _ do _ this.

After five or six more awkward kisses, Gabe picked up the bottle and handed it to Brendon, adding in a wink for good measure. The room was silent as Brendon place the bottle down and spun it. Ryan’s eyes were glued worriedly to the nose, but Brendon felt totally zen. There was  _ absolutely no way  _ that it was going to land on-

Ryan.

Fuck.

Brendon sat there in shock, his eyes darting from the tip of the bottle to his ex-boyfriend. That the bottle was  _ definitely _ pointing to. That he now had to kiss. 

Brendon’s mind went into overdrive, weighing all of his options at light speed. He could run out of the room. He could punch Ryan. He could punch  _ Gabe _ . He could insist that the bottle was pointing to the guy  _ next  _ to Ryan. He could try some combination of all five. 

_ Or. _ Or, he could kiss Ryan. He could give Ryan the best god damn kiss he’ll ever get, and then he could leave. Turn around and never look at his fucking face again. One last “fuck you.” Brendon dropped his shoulders and straightened his posture, his eyelids drooping and a small smirk playing on his lips. Yeah, he could do  _ that. _

Slowly, purposefully, Brendon leaned over the bottle and brought himself inches away from Ryan’s face. He expected his breath to smell like booze or weed or  _ something _ , but all he could catch was the faint scent of mint. Ryan looked completely confused, his eyes darting frantically around Brendon’s face before settling on his lips. Brendon brought a hand up to Ryan’s jaw, tipping his head back before closing his eyes and bringing their lips together. 

Brendon moved slowly against Ryan’s closed mouth, dragging his tongue across Ryan’s lips. Brendon moved his hand to the back of Ryan’s head and tangled his fingers in his hair, pulling just hard enough to make Ryan gasp. Slipping his tongue into Ryan’s open mouth, Brendon did his best not to smirk at Ryan’s tiny, involuntary moan. Ryan;s brain was finally kicking into gear enough for him to start bringing his fingers up to Brendon’s neck, but Brendon pulled away before he could make contact. He lingered close enough to feel Ryan’s hot, disappointed exhale fan out over his skin, taking the moment to appreciate Ryan’s red lips and desperate eyes one last time. 

“Brendon,” Ryan whispered, but Brendon was already moving back to his spot in the circle. Call Brendon a slut for that (it wouldn’t be the first time, and it also wouldn’t be entirely wrong), but that had felt  _ so  _ fucking good.

Brendon stretched, yawning a little and starting to stand. “Alright, welp, thanks Gabe, that was super fun but I really gotta-”

“Stay right here!” Gabe finished for him. Judging by the terrifyingly delighted look on his face, he’d just misinterpreted Brendon’s  _ hey fuck you look what you’re missing out on _ kiss as a  _ wow holy fuck I miss you so much please come fuck this _ kiss. Which was, by all definitions, the nightmare scenario.

“Why?” Ryan asked, seemingly fully recovered from his initial shock. Again,  _ nightmare scenario.  _

“Because I have another game planned!” Yeah, Brendon had begun to think that Gabe was  _ actually  _ twelve. He stood up excitedly, gesturing for the rest of the circle to follow suit. He began pairing people off and leading them out of the room, only to come back and whisk off another couple. Eventually, Brendon and Ryan were the only two left in the bedroom. Gabe popped back in, grinning evilly. He walked over to Ryan and whispered something in his ear. After thinking about it for a moment, Ryan shook his head. Smiling like a kid on fucking Christmas, Gabe whispered something else to Ryan and inclined his head towards the back of the room. Ryan nodded back and watched as Gabe practically skipped out of the room. The door clicked behind him, so cool cool cool they were both  _ fucking locked in.  _ Brendon hoped he didn’t look as confused and terrified as he felt. 

All of his confidence gone, Brendon began slowly backing up as Ryan advanced on him. “Uh, what exactly are we supposed to be playing?” Brendon asked, wincing at the crack in his voice. 

Ryan was smiling now, his pupils blown and his movements slow and predatory.  _ Fuck, _ Brendon knew that look. Back both figuratively and literally against the wall, all Brendon could do was watch as Ryan pressed all too close to him, effectively trapping him against the wall with his body. 

“Ryan?” Brendon squeaked. Ryan pushed himself impossibly closer to Brendon, his knee very deliberately brushing against Brendon’s zipper. Brendon groaned, a little more needy and helpless than his quickly crumbling dignity appreciated. “ _ Fuck _ ,” he hissed. “Ryan, wha-?”

Ryan moved his lips swiftly to Brendon’s ear. “Seven minutes in heaven, asshole.” He brought his lips to Brendon’s jaw, moving down to his neck in just the right fucking way. He had Brendon’s wrists pinned above his head and was using his thigh to press insistently at Brendon’s dick. Self control (and possibly self preservation) gone, Brendon jutted his chin out and gave up on trying to stop the small whines that were escaping his mouth. All thoughts were gone from his mind except  _ holy shit  _ ** _Ryan_ ** _ . _

Ryan moved away from Brendon’s neck and went to his lips, biting down hard and swallowing Brendon’s moans. He brought his hands away from Brendon’s wrists and moved them to undoing Brendon’s bow tie and buttons. Brendon knew all too well that Ryan wouldn’t like it if he tried speeding the process up, so he left his shirt be removed painfully slowly. “Ryan, I-” he started, but Ryan shushed him, slipping his hands under Brendon’s shirt and smoothing his palms across Brendon’s chest.

Brendon was practically whimpering as Ryan lowered his mouth to Brendon’s collarbone. He kept repeating Ryan’s name, bucking his hips up shamefully. 

Ryan lowered himself to his knees, planting kisses right above the waistline of Brendon’s jeans. His fingers were digging into Brendon’s hips hard enough that Brendon knew he’d have bruises. Brendon’s dick was pressing into the heat of Ryan’s body and  _ holy fuck _ he’d never wanted to take off his pants so badly in his  _ fucking life. _ But Ryan had different plans, and Brendon knew he was the one in charge right now. 

Ryan looked up at Brendon and bit his lip, making Brendon shudder. “Brendon,” he murmured, shutting his eyes and exhaling shakily. Brendon’s response came as a pleading rush.

“Oh god Ryan aything you want yes god  _ please _ Ryan holy  _ fuck _ .” Smiling deviously, Ryan stood and pulled Brendon away from the wall. He pressed himself against Brendon’s back, erection pressing into the back of Brendon’s thigh and mouth exhaling hot air into Brendon’s ear. 

“Do you know what Gabe said to me before he left?” Ryan asked, snaking his hands under Brendon’s waistband. Brendon whined in response, lost in the burning sensation of Ryan’s hands stroking his hipbones. Ryan’s words come out in a tangle of sweetness and sultriness, which was driving Brendon fucking  _ crazy.  _ “He asked me if I wanted him to come back after seven minutes.” Ryan paused, dragging his teeth over Brendon’s neck. “I told him no. Do you know why?” Fucking yes, Brendon got it, but when he opened his mouth to try and express that, all that came out of him was a breathy moan. Ryan hummed against Brendon’s skin in what was almost a laugh before pushing him gently forward, towards the bed. They walked there together, slowly, Ryan guiding Brendon carefully because Brendon had his eyes screwed shut in concentration. As if keeping his eyes closed would make this any less surreal. Or aid him in the near impossible task of not cumming in his pants right here and now. 

Laughing lightly, Ryan spoke again. “Do you know what else Gabe told me?” Brendon didn’t have a chance to guess before Ryan whispered roughly, “He told me there are condoms in the nightstand.” 

And all at once Brendon had the realization that Ryan was going to fuck him. And even worse, Brendon  _ wanted him to.  _ They hadn’t spoken in  _ two years, _ and now the first time they see each other they’re having sex again. Brendon was momentarily stunned into silence, but after the shock passed he realized that he  _ didn’t fucking care. _ Yes, he’d hate himself in the morning and this was probably a huge fucking mistake, but he couldn’t care less. He wanted this. He wanted  _ Ryan. _ He wanted Ryan so fucking much that it hurt his fucking heart to think about for too long. So he let himself be pushed onto the bed and unbuttoned his jeans when Ryan nodded at him. Ryan (tragically still fully clothed) was rummaging through the nightstand Gabe had indicated before pulling out condoms and lube. Ryan slowly undressed, making a show of himself and leaving Brendon with an aching erection that he  _ knew _ Ryan wouldn’t let him touch yet. Finally,  _ finally _ Ryan was naked and crawling onto the bed.

“Bend over,” he commanded, and Brendon moved to his hands and knees. Ryan draped himself over Brendon, whispering “God babe, you’re so fucking hot like this,” and making Brendon shiver and blush at the same time. Ryan smiled and sat back up. “I’m gonna put a finger in, okay?” Brendon nodded, afraid to open his mouth in case any other embarrassing sounds came out. Ryan must have sensed Brendon’s hesitation (of fucking course he did, they had fucked so many times Brendon lost count, of  _ course _ Ryan knew all his tells), because after he’d lubricated his finger he was leaning back over Brendon and saying “It’s okay. You can be loud.” And Brendon didn’t have to be told that twice.

Ryan pushed a finger inside Brendon, who cried out so loudly he was sure the entire party heard him. “ _ Fuck, _ Ryan,” he sputtered, “it’s been so fucking long, I-” Brendon was cut off by his own moan as Ryan twisted and curled his finger inside of him.

“It’s okay,” Ryan said, and Brendon (damn himself) actually relaxed a little. “You’re doing so well baby.” Ryan’s finger pumped in and out of him, stretching him out and making him fucking keen. Ryan stroked a hand up and down Brendon’s side like he’d done a billion times before, and Brendon surprised himself by how easily he sank into the touch.

“R-Ryan,” he stuttered. “More.”

Ryan stopped pumping. “You sure?”

“Please.” Brendon knew his voice cracked, but he was way beyond caring. He wanted Ryan more than anything, and they both knew it. 

Ryan coated a second finger and slipped it in, and Brendon had to bite down on his lip to keep from yelling. Ryan moved a little more quickly, making Brendon grip the sheets to steady himself. His dick was flat against his stomach, the tip wet with precum. Momentarily forgetting about Ryan, he brought a hand up, trying to get some friction or pressure or fucking  _ something.  _ But before he could, Ryan stopped him, grabbing Brendon’s wrist and leaning down to growl, “No, not yet,” in his ear. His fingers were still pumping roughly in Brendon’s ass, and ass Brendon managed a broken nod, Ryan shoved a third finger in. 

“Mother _ fucker! _ ” Brendon shouted, sounding actually offended but quickly relaxing as Ryan shushed him. His hand resumed its pattern up and down Brendon’s side, moving from the smooth plane of Brendon’s chest to the curve of his ass and back up again. Brendon’s voice had gone shrill and high pitched, his breath hitching and his eyes screwed tight. “Ryan, shit, I-”

“Brendon,” Ryan said levelly. “Do you think you’re ready?” Yes yes  _ fuck yes _ Brendon was ready, totally ready, 100% ready, fucking  _ born _ ready. He nodded vigorously, too lost and overstimulated to vocally express himself. He could practically  _ feel _ Ryan’s smile as he pulled his fingers from Brendon’s ass and rolled on a condom. He lowered himself to Brendon’s ear and asked again, apparently not satisfied with Brendon’s answer. “You  _ sure _ you’re ready, babe?” 

“Fucking hell Ryan,  _ yes _ just  _ fuck me _ already,” Brendon huffed. No sooner did the words leave his mouth that Ryan practically slammed himself into Brendon, picking up the slow and hard rhythm that he’d perfected years ago that drove Brendon insane and left him sore for days afterwards.

A string of curses left his mouth, some of them obscured by a groan or a temporary lapse in his ability to speak the English language. Ryan knew just where to aim, shooting sparks up Brendon’s spine every time he thrusted forward. Brendon didn’t know if he was telling Ryan he still loved him or that he fucking hated his guts. Either way, Ryan moved back up to Brendon’s ear, his sweet voice contrasting with the rough snap of his hips. “God Brendon, you’re taking it so fucking well. You’re so god damn tight, do you know that? Was I the last guy you let fuck you like this?”

“Ryan, please,” he whined, which was totally dodging the question, but to be fair Brendon had every right to plead the fifth on that one.

Hips still slamming into Brendon, Ryan smiled. “Here, I’ll do it for you.” He stretched his hand out in front of Brendon’s face, and Brendon ran his tongue across Ryan’s palm without even thinking. Thank god for muscle memory, apparently. Ryan brought his hand down to Brendon’s cock, pumping his hand at double the speed that his hips were moving. “Fuck, you’re so fucking good at this babe,” Ryan groaned, bringing his free hand up to Brendon’s hair and pulling until Brendon saw stars.

“Ryan,  _ holyshitRyanI’mgonna- _ ” Brendon breathed, and Ryan nodded distractedly. 

“Go ahead babe, you can. So fucking good holy  _ shit _ .” And just like that Brendon was cumming in Ryan’s hand, yelling Ryan’s name as loud as he could because fuck it, why not? A few more thrusts and Ryan was cumming too, and Brendon didn’t have to look at him to know his whole body was flushed and his lip was caught between his teeth. He also didn’t have to look to know that he looked fucking gorgeous. 

A few moments of heavy breathing, and then Ryan was pulling out of Brendon and throwing away his condom. Oh shit. Uh, yeah, Brendon hadn’t actually thought this far ahead. He tried moving off of the bed, but Ryan already had an arm wrapped around him, pulling him back down and under the covers. Brendon took a deep breath, willing himself to stay fucking calm as his body sunk into Ryan’s warmth. He could deal with the guilt of this complete fuck up tomorrow. Right now what he needed was sleep.

When Brendon woke up the next morning to find Ryan, his Ryan sleeping next to him, he had the briefest moment where everything was alright. He’d been transported back five years ago when everything was okay with him and his boyfriend and their band and nothing was messy or painful anymore. But it only took another couple of seconds for Brendon to realize that no, everything was  _ not _ okay between them and  _ shit _ , he’d fucked up  _ so fucking bad _ last night.

Scrambling away from Ryan so quickly he almost fell off the bed, Brendon did his best to stave off a panic attack. He grabbed the first pieces of clothing he could find, which were luckily his underwear and jeans. He pulled them on as quietly and quickly as he could before all but running out of the room. To hell with the rest of his clothes. That bowtie was stupid anyways.

He stepped out into the aftermath of Gabe’s party, drinks, streamers, and the occasional whole ass person strewn across the room. Brendon stepped carefully over them all, only now realizing he’d forgotten his shoes in there too. Too late now. 

Brendon stepped out of the house into the freezing fucking cold of morning. He pulled out his phone, thanking the fucking stars it was still in his pants pocket, and checked the time. 6:58 AM. The sun was already mostly up, the sky a pale blue and the sun casting a faint golden haze over the horizon. 

All of a sudden, Brendon realized he had no way of getting home. Travie had driven him here, and he and his car were nowhere to be seen. Even if Brendon had a car he could drive, he had no clue how to get to his house from here. He was stranded. 

Clutching his phone in his hand and shivering against the cold, Brendon tried to get his brain out of crisis mode and into something that could think him up a solution. Who could help him right now?

Then it hit him. Duh. Pete, of course. Pete never slept, so he was bound to be awake at this hour. He had a car and knew how to get to Gabe’s place, so he could totally pick Brendon up. And probably most importantly, Pete was the kind of dude who would pick up his shit and go first and ask questions later. Which was kind of exactly what Brendon needed right now. He opened his phone and started dialing.

Pete answered on the second ring. “Hey man!” he said without the usual grogginess that any normal human being would have at this hour. “What’s up?”

“Pete it’s really cold outside and I don’t have a shirt on or shoes or a way to get home can you help me?”

Brendon heard Pete start to move before he was halfway through that sentence. “Yeah dude, of course. Are you alright?”

Brendon thought for a moment before shaking his head. “No. No, I don’t think so.” Brendon heard the sound of car keys jingling through the phone, followed by a door being opened, closed, and then locked.

“Okay,” Pete said calmly. “Where are you, buddy?”

“Gabe’s house. Please hurry, it’s fucking freezing.”

Pete made Brendon stay on the phone with him as he drove. He didn’t ask Brendon what was wrong. not because he didn’t care, but because he understood that now was not the fucking time. Brendon kept himself busy by pacing ambly up and down the street, and then at Pete’s request, began singing along to the songs on Pete’s radio. It was hard to hear them through the phone, but it kept Brendon distracted enough that he could almost relax before Pete found him. He pulled up in front of Brendon at 7:16, which was pretty impressive considering Pete must’ve lived more than halfway across the entire city.

Brendon hopped into the passenger’s seat, grateful that Pete had cranked up the heat for him in advance. Pete tossed a soft old t-shirt at him and pressed on the gas, giving Brendon the silence he needed to defrost and recollect himself before he felt that he could speak.

“Okay,” he finally breathed, “so I know-”

“Dude,” Pete shook his head. “It’s okay. It’s like seven in the fucking AM, you’ve had a super rough night, and you’ve been standing in the cold for like twenty minutes. You don’t have to force out an explanation right now. Just relax.” Brendon took a deep breath and sank into the heated seat. Pete just fucking got it. “Here,” he continued, gesturing at the car radio, “press the 4. It should be a Sinatra CD. Brendon did, and it was, and he felt a little better. He hummed along, letting the familiarity of the music overwhelm him. Meanwhile Pete pulled out his phone and called someone he had on speed dial, which definitely piqued Brendon’s interest. He listened in. 

The phone rang a total of four times before whoever was on the other end finally picked up. Pete smiled at the voice he was greeted with, even though whoever was speaking couldn’t see him. Still, Pete’s smile had something strangely audible about it. 

“Hey Patrick,” he grinned. “Yes, it’s important. Yes, I know what time it is. Trick, it doesn’t  _ matter _ that it’s 7:24 in the morning. I- Patrick, it’s about Brendon.” There was a pause, during which Patrick probably stopped telling Pete to fuck off because he was tired and didn’t have time for this and started actually being concerned. Pete, ever the attention whore, grinned wider. “Oh what, so you’ll wake up for  _ Brendon _ but not for me? Alright, I see how it-  _ waitTricksorrynodon’thangup. _ ” Brendon snorted and Pete stuck out his tongue at him.

“Yes yes yes,” he continued. “It’s important, I promise. I just picked Brendon up from Gabe’s and I figured we could chill at your place today because it’s closer. Is that cool? Yeah, I think so. Yeah, yeah. I know. Okay. We’ll be there in twenty.  _ Yes, minutes _ you dork, literally what else? Cool. Cool. Bye, Rickster.” Pete hung up and smiled at Brendon. Brendon smiled back, leaning into his seat as Pete turned up the music and cruised towards Patrick’s place. 

When Brendon got to Patrick’s, his friends practically pampered him. They gave him a comfy pair of sweatpants to change into (which looked suspiciously like Pete’s), and brewed him a big cup of coffee. Patrick had even cooked up some breakfast for everyone, which they all ate as they lounged around Patrick’s living room and listened to Pete recount a story about how he’d actually convinced a group of college kids that he was the lead singer of Panic! at the Disco.

“Bullshit,” Patrick said when the story was over, narrowing his eyes at Pete from behind his glasses.

“No man, totally true. Just like how that one guy stopped you at some Walmart and asked for your autograph because ‘his daughter just  _ loved _ Gerard Way!’” he airquoted, and Brendon laughed. They finished eating and a heavy silence fell over them.

“Brendon,” Pete said softly. “Do you wanna…?”

Brendon nodded. “Yeah, uh.” He dove into retelling the events of last night, starting from Travie picking him up (which made Pete laugh, and Brendon was glad he wasn’t alone in appreciating how wonderful Travie fucking Mccoy telling him he didn’t look  _ cute _ enough was) and ending with his call with Pete. He skipped out on all the juicy details of the actual hook up, summarizing the whole event with a shrug and the phrase, “real loud and real lubey.” Patrick cringed at that, but Pete snorted.

“Dude!” Brendon snapped his head to Pete, feigning a little more offence than necessary for the sake of the bit. “It’s  _ so _ not funny.” 

Pete recovered enough to speak. “Yeah, I know, and I’m sorry, it’s just. Listen. I’ve been on the giving  _ and _ receiving end of the  _ fucked so well it hurts to walk  _ walk a fair number of times in my life, so I pretty much know it when I see it. And Brendon, my dude, y-” Pete failed to finish his sentence due to the expertly aimed pillow Patrick had lobbed at his face. Patrick apologized for Pete being an asshole (“Which is to say, Pete being Pete,” he added) and told Brendon to continue.

Brendon finished his story, doing his very best to not start crying. Pete’s jaw was set in a hard line. “I’m going to kick Saporta’s fucking ass.” 

“I’ll take on Travie,” Patrick piped up. Despite himself, Brendon laughed. The thought of Pete and Patrick trying to take on two guys who were easily an entire foot taller than either of them? If anything was going to cheer Brendon up, it was that.

“Thanks guys,” he said, fully anticipating (and even maybe appreciating) the group hug that Pete pulled him into.

“Do you think you’ll be okay?” Patrick asked, his eyes full of an almost parental concern.

Brendon nodded. “Yeah. Eventually, for sure. His love’s a fucking drag, anyways.”

Pete nodded. “It sucks, man. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Brendon said, reassuring himself as much as he was reassuring his friends. “I’ll be okay.” Maybe not whole, but okay. 


End file.
